Turn Back
by Obsidian Sparkle
Summary: Harry's summer isn't turning out the way he expected. Having finished the Triwizard Tournament, he expected life to be a little better, considering he was still alive. Vernon Dursley thinks otherwise and teaches Harry a lesson. Until he turns up on one Severus Snape's doorstep. Snape takes pity on Harry, knowing what it's like. Severitus, rape, abuse, Ron bashing.
1. Saviour

Harry lay on his back in the dark, barely breathing. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. He couldn't see. There was no light in his cupboard. It was pitch black. It all started after the Tri Wizard tournament. Nightmares of Cedric being killed, Voldemort being alive plagued him every night to the point where he'd wake everyone up with his screaming. After the first week of this, the Dursleys started force feeding him sleeping pills every night, with no avail. Then Vernon decided to beat it out of him. Vernon would come into his room and hit him until he woke up. This continued all throughout the third week of his summer holidays. Nobody had written to him. His friends didn't care. He didn't even know where Hedwig was. Was she alive? Harry didn't know.

On the fourth week, he awoke to Vernon dragging him down the stairs and throwing him into the cupboard under the stairs and locking it. That was where he stayed for the whole of the fourth week, trying hard not to sleep. When he did fall asleep, he'd be woken by a foot to his ribs, each kick more painful than the last. Judging from the pain in his right side, they were broken. That was two weeks ago.

Last week, he was allowed out of his cupboard to wash in the shed in the garden because he was making the house stink. When he came back, there was a cinnamon air freshener in his cupboard. Harry. The smell of it made him sneeze. Sneezing made the pain in his ribs worse and he was sure he heard a few cracks. Harry tried hiding it under some old clothes, but that didn't help. Then the Dursleys decided that because it was their last week of having the freak in their perfect house, they were going to have some fun with him.

Harry was dragged out of his cupboard and up the stairs by his hair to his room. It wasn't easy, being dragged by his hair, especially with broken ribs. He felt tugging and then the cold air and realised his clothes had been ripped off. Harry tried to curl up to protect himself but that just worsened it. Vernon started kicking him; anywhere he could reach as Harry writhed on the floor in agony as his broken ribs were brutally kicked. Vernon stamped on his shin and a nasty cracking noise came from it.

Harry passed out, only to have a bucket of cold water dumped over him. Vernon was kneeling behind him now. Harry could feel something hard pressed up against him and then a sudden pain as Vernon grunted. Harry realised he was being raped. He started moving, trying to free himself, but Vernon knelt on his arm. Harry passed out after hearing the splintering of bone.

Green eyes fluttered open to the dark and low ceiling of his cupboard under the stairs. His mouth was dry and his head was stuffy. He tried to sit up, only to fall back down after his broken ribs, on both sides now, protested. More than protested, Harry felt like he had taken bludgers to his ribs before being trampled on by a hippogriff and crucioed by the Dark Lord.

He reached for his light with his unbroken left hand and pulled on the cord, once, then twice. Panicking, he tried a third time. He let his head drop back onto the floor. The bulb was gone. He raised his good hand to his face, checking his glasses were still intact. He found out they were little more than shattered glass and twisted wire laying on his face. Harry became dimly aware that he was lying in a pool of blood. Was someone bleeding? He could smell the red liquid as it soaked his clothes. A more rational voice in his head urged him to get out, but how could he? His arm, his leg, his ribs were all broken. His wand was locked away in his cupboard and he – realisation dawned on Harry. He was in his cupboard. He'd never thought he'd be grateful Vernon was stupid.

Pushing himself backwards with his good arm and good leg, he made it over to the box. It was in there somewhere, it was his birthday present from the Dursleys...apart from the kicking he'd received. He desperately felt around the box until his fingers scraped it. Harry picked up the paper clip and tried to clumsily bend it into a shape with his fingers. It wasn't perfect, but if he could get through the padlock Vernon was bound to have put on his trunk, he could leave.

Even if it meant being expelled for using magic.

Harry pushed himself over to the other side of the cupboard, blindly feeling for the padlock. Once he had it, he pushed the paperclip in and twisted it, praying to whoever was listening it would work. If it didn't, he was dead. Once he heard a click, Harry pulled off the padlock and as it clattered to the floor, he feebly lifted the lid and slipped his hand inside, stifling a gasp when it fell on the unseen bruises littering his skinny arm. His hand felt his books and the silky material of his invisibility cloak and eventually his bruised fingers closed around his wand handle. Carefully drawing his arm out of the trunk, Harry considered what to do now. After all this, he was tired. Covered in blood, he wanted nothing more than to let the darkness claim him. What was there to do? He couldn't go to Hogwarts, nor let the Weasleys see him like this.

Today was the 31st of August and he was going back to Hogwarts tomorrow.

Or he would be, but he wasn't going anywhere in this state. He wouldn't be going anywhere ever again if he didn't do something. In the darkness, he was seeing spots and he was certain the pool of blood he'd woken up in was bigger. There was only one place he could go, to the person who hated him the most. Harry tapped the padlock and weakly whispered _Portus Spinner's End_. He grasped his trunk with his good hand with his wand clutched in his trembling fingers and moved his other hand to grab the padlock, holding back screams of pain.

Severus Snape was in the sitting room, enjoying a rather old potions book along with a rather old glass of gin as what light in the room faded. An alarm sounded from somewhere and he looked up irratibly. Someone was trying to get through his wards. Deciding to desposit them on his doorstep, he set his gin and book down before taking his time to walk to the front door, lazily twirling his wand. There were few people who knew where his house was and fewer people who knew the appropriate password to get in. He was not, at all, worried about what would be waiting for him on his doorstep. Or at least, that's what he thought as his opened the door to see Potter, son of his most hated enemy and bane of his existence.

What little colour existed in his face drained away as he took in the blood soaking Potter's clothes, the hand clutching the padlock that was attached to a bruised arm with the bone jutting out through the skin and the leg that was twisted the wrong way and hanging at an angle nobody should ever achieve. Snape, lest he should throw up, turned away for a second and breathed in deeply through his nose. Worse things had been seen at his Death Eater meetings, yes, but he had not known those people. As much as he hated the Potter spawn, he had to do something.

Snape turned back, his face devoid of emotion, Potter brat or not. Raising his wand, he levitated the unconcious boy and his trunk into his house, deciding immediately to place him onto one of the spare beds whilst he worked. Taking him up the stairs and doing just that, Severus summoned several potions, setting them down on the faded maple table next to the bed.

Whilst no Healer, Snape could fix injuries, although the boy's mental state would be another thing entirely. Banishing Potter's t-shirt and replacing the jeans with shorts, he cast a diagnostic spell and _would've _paled (had he any colour) at the length of the list presented to him.

What had Potter been doing over the summer? Shouldn't he be lounging at his relative's home, being pampered and waited on hand and foot. Potter should be well fed, not skinny enough to count all his ribs. Snape frowned. What could Potter have possibly been doing to get these injuries? He grabbed the list and scanned it, ignoring the past injuries and skipping to present injuries. Broken arm, leg, ribs and...rectal bleeding.

Severus was jerked back to reality when Potter twitched and moaned. He was going to have to fix Potter. Snape picked up one of the potion bottles containing a pain killing potion and uncorked it before spelling it directly into Potter's stomach. It would do no good to have him choke. How was he going to proceed? He needed to stop the bleeding first. Snape levitated Potter onto his front.

"Episkey." That took care of the bleeding. Flipping him back over, Severus followed up with a blood replenishing potion, as no other places seemed to be bleeding. He didn't know whether he should try to fix the broken arm or to vanish the bones and regrow them as that fool Lockhart did a few years ago. As stupid as it was, the idea did have some merit. First, the leg though. Pointing his wand at Potter's leg, he flicked his wand and cast a silent _Erecto_. Now the bone was set, he cast _Ferula _that was bound Potter's leg. Snape eyed Potter's arm before banishing the broken bone and summoning Skele-grow, which like the other potions, was spelled directly into Potter's stomach.

Unfortuately, Snape couldn't give Potter a sleeping draught, unless he wanted to kill Potter. Severus had a feeling both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord wouldn't be pleased if such a thing happened. Snape finished fixing the Potter brat with Episkey to his ribs and used his wand to place him into the bed then proceeded to exit the room, back down the stairs into the sitting room.

Snape picked up his gin and downed the glass before sitting down heavily in his chair and staring at the fire place. What was he going to do with the Potter boy? He couldn't contact Dumbledore, the old fool had sent the boy back to his relatives every summer. Severus had never seen a clearer sign of abuse than this, now that he thought back over the years, everytime he saw Potter limping around at the beginning of the year, wincing and flinching when people came too close.

How could he not have spotted it sooner?

Snape would've continued dwelling if his thoughts hadn't been disturbed by a loud blood curdling scream from upstairs.


	2. Magic

_Snape would've continued dwelling if his thoughts hadn't been disturbed by a loud blood curdling scream from upstairs._

Severus jumped out of his chair, like he'd been burnt, wand in hand and rushed up the stairs two at a time, entering the spare bedroom in a matter of seconds. The Potter boy was writhing in the bed, legs tangled in the once white sheets. The sheets, particularly next to Potter's head were stained crimson red, even more so as the boy spat more blood onto it before doubling up in a coughing fit.

"_Anapneo._" He snapped, pointing his wand towards the brat. Almost instantly, Potter stopped choking on his own blood and was able to lay flat on the bed again. His breathing quickly returned to normal except for the...rattling. Snape recognised a punctured lung when he heard one and fixed it when a delicate flick of his wand and a small choking sound from Potter as the gaping hole in his lung was abruptly fixed. Severus had no idea how the boy survived this long without his lung collapsing. Probably the infamous Potter dumb luck and maybe a good portion of magic sustaining it.

Once Potter could breathe, Snape cleaned the bed sheets with another flick of his wand, turned on his heel and billowed out of the room, assuming Potter would know not to move from the bed. Stalking down the stairs, he headed straight for his potions lab. As it seemed, he needed to make some bruise healing paste for the boy. Allowing him to continue meandering around with bruises all over him wouldn't do. Given that he, Severus Snape, did not acquire bruises, nor did he spend his time making a pitiful fifth year paste that he could brew in his sleep, he was going to have to make some.

Snape muttered under his breath about meddling old fools and wretched Potters who couldn't keep out of his life for more than ten years at a time as he set out one of his cauldrons and start preparing the necessary ingredients for it. As soon as Snape started adding ingredients to the cauldron, his thoughts drifted away, back to the boy. What was he supposed to do with him? Potter couldn't stay here. Severus doubted the brat would want to. Why would he stay here when he could be off to his trouble making friends? All the better for Snape if he got rid of the boy.

Snape wasn't equipped for children. He could teach them, yes, scare them, make them cry, but taking care of one? No, that was better left to someone like Molly Weasley. She and her seven children would do just fine for Potter. At least the boy liked them, rather than the bat of the dungeons. He'd be glad when Potter was gone.

Severus added the flobberworm mucus, more of it than was required in other potions. Ridiculous amounts were required for pastes and personally, Snape detested the stuff. After doing a little more stirring and some adding of Phoenix tears, the paste was at last ready. He scooped it out of the cauldron and upon realising he lacked a container to put it in, summoned a tub from his stores. Once he'd finished, he placed a lid on it and cleared up with a flick of his wand.

Time to go talk to Potter.

Snape exited his lab and shut the door behind him. He paused before locking it. Wouldn't want Potter to run in there and blow himself up. He chuckled humourlessly. Imagine having to Floo Dumbledore and tell him that his precious Golden boy, son of James and Lily Potter, had blown himself up in Snape's potion laboratory after narrowly escaping death at the hands of the Dursleys. No, Severus was keeping this door locked.

Snape strode up the stairs to the spare room and knocked once on the open door before inviting himself in. Surprisingly, Potter was actually asleep. For once, the boy had enough sense to do something. Snape placed the bruise healing paste on the nightstand and conjured a quill and parchment on which he wrote 'For you, Potter.' That should do for when the boy wakes. He banished the quill.

Severus left the room before he could see Harry's eyelids flicker. Harry slowly woke up and rubbed at his eyes blearily before realising he was in a bed. What's more, he was in a bed not at the Dursleys. Where was he? Harry tried to recall the last few hours and how he came to be h-Oh. Harry was in Snape's house. Snape probably hated him even more now. Harry felt for his glasses, but couldn't find them. He was essentially blind now, as he couldn't see very well in the first place.

Harry shuffled to the edge of the bed and tried to stand up. Snape had fixed his leg then. But it was cold and Harry started shivering as soon as he left the cosy bed. Harry pulled off a blanket and wrapped it around himself before feeling for the wall and making his way to the stairs with only the wall to guide him. He was just about to make his way down, when his foot got caught in his blanket and he fell down the rest of the stairs.

Severus had returned to the sitting room and tried to pick up his book where he left off, only to be interrupted by a series of bangs and crashes. Snape yet again rushed out of the room to the stairs only to see Potter lying at the bottom of the stairs in a tangled heap.

"Potter. I just fixed you. Try not to get injured again." Snape's eyes met Harry's as he yet again levitated Potter using magic, only this time into the sitting room. Harry was bristling as Severus said that. As if it was his fault he'd fallen down the stairs. Harry reckoned it he was lucky he didn't break anything. And now Snape was treating him like a child by levitating him into the sitting room and seating him on a chair like he couldn't do it himself. All he wanted was his glasses.

"Now, Mr Potter. Would you like to tell me why you were out of bed?" Snape's voice was dangerously low as he leaned forwards in his chair. Harry visibly swallowed and gathered his courage. Snape wouldn't hurt him, right?

"I was...looking for my glasses." Harry mumbled.

Glasses. Severus recalled those, the tangled mess of wire that had resided upon Potter's face until...Severus couldn't recall seeing them after taking him into the house. He was willing to bet they were still sullying his doorstep outside.

"Accio Potter's glasses." Snape said. Sure enough, the glasses flew onto the sitting room table and Harry's face fell at the sight of them. Snape, however, pulled out his wand and continued talking. "They're fixable, Potter, Oculus Reparo."

The glasses repaired themselves and Harry picked them up off the coffee table and put them on. Now he could see and there would be more stumbling around blindly or falling down stairs. What was going to happen now though? Was Snape going to send him away to the Weasleys or back to the Dursleys? Harry fidgeted and Snape must have noticed.

Snape's lip curled in disdain. Potter was fidgeting. And not a word of thanks. Typical.

"I don't suppose you bothered to use the bruise healing paste I left for you." Snape sneered.

"No...Sir. I didn't know it was there." Potter had come up with that meagre excuse. Snape didn't even bother with the incantation to summon the bruise healing paste he made earlier. Severus caught it and gave it to the boy.

"Use it on your bruises." Snape instructed and then called for his house elf. "Conan!"

Conan, an old elf popped into existence at his call.

"What does Master Snape request?" He asked in a distinctly deeper voice than the squeaky voice that was characteristic of most house elves.

"We request tea." Snape ordered and Conan popped out of existence. Seconds later, a teapot of tea, teacups and a few cakes and biscuits showed up on the table. Severus poured himself and Harry a cup of tea before sipping at his and leaning back in his chair. He watched Harry look at the tea and the biscuits. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Take the tea, Potter. I didn't poison it. Nor did I poison the biscuits." Dumbledore would have his head if he did. Potter –reluctantly – accepted the tea and a biscuit on which he nibbled. Snape refrained from rolling his eyes. Shouldn't he have managed to eat them all by now?

Harry, on the other hand, didn't know what to make of this bizarre situation. It was bad enough he'd shown up on Snape's doorstep like this and now he was having tea and biscuits with the Potions Master. Hermione would never believe this.

Snape set his teacup down on the table and looked expectantly at Harry. Harry looked down into his teacup.

"It has come to my attention that your...relatives...have been abusing you." Snape started. The effect was immediate; Harry stiffened and refused to meet Snape's eyes. Severus continued. "In light of this, Mr Potter, we can't continue to send you back to the Dursleys if their treatment of you was anything like the state you turned up in. I will be talking to the Headmaster about this."

"Please sir, my relatives don't...abuse me, sir." Harry protested quietly with a nervous laugh that indicated to Snape how bad at lying the boy really was.

"Potter, you turned up on my doorstep with broken ribs, the bone is your arm was sticking up through your skin, and the state of your leg is something that even I haven't achieved. Not to mention the rectal bleeding. I doubt any of those injuries came from falling down the stairs or getting into a fight, so tell me, Potter, how did you receive your injuries if it wasn't abuse at the hands of your relatives?" Snape continued, but the rest of it was lost on Harry. As soon as he heard 'rectal bleeding', the uneaten biscuit fell from his hand and Harry started reliving the moment when his uncle raped him, hearing every moan from his uncle and snap of his bones under Vernon's fat leg.

Snape, oblivious to this, finished talking and looked at Potter, waiting for another badly constructed lie about his injuries and how he came to have them. But, as usual, the boy wasn't paying attention. What did Snape expect from a Potter? His temper was rising. He detested lying teenagers and especially about a matter like this. Of course, he should know better, having been in their place once with his Muggle father.

"Potter. Pay attention." Snape commanded as the tension in the air grew. Snape could feel the magic radiating off Harry and looked around at the shaking items in the room and back at Harry's blank face. Suddenly Harry stood up, the biscuit and the teacup both falling to the floor, the latter smashing delicately against the rug covered stone floor. The magic had grown thicker and the shaking increased.

"YOU DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING." Harry shouted at Severus and ran out of the room as every fragile item smashed and the books fell to the floor out of their bookcases. Snape distinctly heard doors banging and more smashing.

"Conan!" Snape barked. The small elf appeared. "Clean this up!"

Conan nodded as Snape stormed off to where Potter had run, following the debris trail the boy had left behind him. Snape was going to have words with Potter about this and have him scrubbing cauldrons until he was thirty. Potter led him all the way up to the top of the house, to the attic. Severus cursed. The attic was a bad place for Potter to be going. Increasing his stride, he soon caught up to the underweight boy and pulled him backwards by his borrowed shirt.

"Do not. Run. Away. From. Me." Snape said through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, it was an accident!" Harry cried, throwing his arms up to protect his face.

Accident? Snape fumed and started dragging Harry down the stairs. Potter stumbled a few times, but stayed on his feet mostly until they got back to the newly cleaned sitting room. Severus threw Harry into the chair and stuck him there with a sticking hex. The boy wasn't going anywhere.

"You will stay there until we have finished this discussion." Snape threatened before returning to his chair. "Now, Mr Potter. What did your relatives do to you?"

Harry hesitated. "N-nothing, sir." Perhaps Snape wanted to know so he could beat him to the appropriate standard or use him as a house elf replacement.

"Don't. Lie. To me." Snape watched Potter carefully for signs of another outburst. "Very well. We shall continue this discussion at a later date. Do not think you're off the hook, Potter."

Snape unstuck Harry and Harry ran up the stairs, leaving the blanket and the bruise healing paste behind. Severus sighed. He wasn't cut out for this. Especially as school started tomorrow. What was he going to do with the boy?

Upstairs, Harry had thrown himself on the bed. What right did Snape have to ask those questions, he fumed, swiping a hand across his eyes. What could he do? He couldn't go back to Hogwarts if Snape was there, watching his every move. Maybe he should run away. But he couldn't use magic, the ministry would find him. Harry sighed. Hermione might know what to do...but he had no way of contacting her. Harry punched his pillow. Why was everything so unfair?

Meanwhile, downstairs, Severus had decided to contact Minerva. Maybe she'd know what to do? Snape took a handful of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace, threw it down and stated "McGonagall's Office, Hogwarts!"

Minerva McGonagall was not expecting Severus Snape to come through her fireplace the day before school started. As the deputy headmistress, she did have to be here before any of the other teachers.

"Severus. How nice. Is there a reason for your visit?" She asked. It wasn't that she didn't get on with the dour man; it was just that he was so cold to the other teachers. A shame really, as she had taught him when he was at Hogwarts.

"One of your students, Minerva, is being abused by their family." Severus told her, withholding the name.

For once, the normally strict woman was at a loss for words. It wasn't often they had cases of abuse in Gryffindor. They were more common in Slytherin with the pureblood families. "Who?"

Severus smirked.

"Don't play games with me, Severus, tell me who it is." Minerva gave him one of her best glares.

"Harry Potter." Snape revealed. "I haven't gotten the full story out of him yet, and I haven't told Albus either. That man would just send the boy straight back there, Merlin knows why."

"Excuse me, Severus. I have to discuss this with Albus." McGonagall stood up and swept out of the office. Snape followed at a distance behind her. If this was going to turn out anything like he thought it would, this was going to be good. They soon made it to the gargoyle guarding the door.

"Candy floss." McGonagall snapped at it and it jumped out of the way. They entered the room to see Dumbledore sitting at his desk, probably answering one of the letters the minister had sent to him about something or other. Useless man.

"Minerva! Severus!" He started only to falter as he took in the rage on her face.

"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, HOW COULD YOU SEND THAT BOY BACK TO HIS RELATIVES SUMMER AFTER SUMMER? SURELY, YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD'VE NOTICED. YOU SHOULD'VE SENT SOMEONE TO CHECK ON HIM. BETTER YET, DONE IT YOURSELF..." Minerva started. Dumbledore's mouth had dropped open and Snape was immensely enjoying this. Taking a seat, he absorbed the look on Dumbledore's face and stored it away forever.

"Why I don't know what you're talking about." Albus said weakly and Severus snickered. Bad idea, he thought as McGonagall rounded on him.

"SEVERUS. Tell Albus exactly what you told me five minutes ago." She snapped.

"Potter is being abused by his relatives, as I found out when he turned up on my doorstep this morning." Snape supplied helpfully and McGonagall backed off him.

"But...I don't understand...It doesn't matter, Harry must go back. The blood wards are the only thing that can protect him from Voldemort." Albus said with his mind firmly made up.

_At least school starts tomorrow._ Severus found himself thinking as he watched Minerva's face go from shock, to disbelief to anger.

"Well if you won't do something about it, I will." She huffed and swept out. Snape raised an eyebrow at the old man and followed her out.

Minerva stormed down back to her office, fuming all the way there and sat down at her desk.

"We've got to do something, Severus. We can't just leave Harry with his relatives." McGonagall looked worried.

"I have the boy. We have until the end of the school year to come up with a solution. Now if you'll excuse me." Snape made his way to the Floo and stepped inside with a handful of Floo powder. "Spinner's End." The fireplace roared with green flames and Snape was gone.

Severus stepped out of the fireplace in Spinner's End and listened for any signs of activity. Either Potter had maimed himself, left the house or gone to sleep. Snape was willing to bet the last one, although the second was a possibility, given the boy _was_ a foolish Gryffindor. Snape cast a quick _Tempus_. It was twenty past four. Too early for dinner. Severus left the sitting room in favour of his Potions laboratory.

Upstairs, Harry Potter was complementing where Hedwig was when an ordinary barn owl appeared at the window carrying a letter sealed with the mark of the Ministry.

_Author's notes: Thanks everyone who favourited, reviewed, put it on story alert or even just read it. The response I got for the first chapter was amazing._


End file.
